The Residual Feeling Conclusion
by BlazingLegend
Summary: A quick little story about Leonard and Penny's underlying feelings for each other while Leonard and Priya were dating. Inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Treacherous'. Happy Valentine's. —Leonard/Penny.
1. The Coffee Conundrum

Hey, it's me. This is just a teeny story because I really, really wanted to submit something for Valentine's and I wasn't confident enough in my Shamy works to post and all the other stuff I'd managed to produce... well... sucked.

It's not edited. I will edit it, but I felt it would mean I'd failed if I posted something, edited or no, on _February fifteenth, _instead of on the actual Valentine's Day.

* * *

Penny knocked three times on the door to apartment 4A, fidgeting in her spot.

"Good morning, Penny." The three words had barely passed Sheldon's lips before he frowned down at her. "You're not here to steal our milk, are you?"

"Don't worry," she said, flashing him a smile. "You're safe."

He nodded. "Good. Are you here for Leonard? Do you want me to get him?"

She shook her head. "No no, Sheldon. First I need you to tell me something," she'd lowered her voice, and he peered at her with narrowed blue eyes. She looked around. "Is Priya there?"

"No. She was called into the firm and had to leave early—" his brow furrowed, as if remembering something distasteful, "—she made quite the ruckus."

Her eyes flickered with something bright and happy, and she swung a little in her spot. "Oh, good! Then can I come in?"

He sighed. "Very well, but only if you swear not to steal our milk."

She rolled her eyes, replying in a flat tone, "God, Sheldon. Fine. I _promise _not to steal your milk."

He shuffled off to his room without another word.

She shrugged, thinking that she'd been meaning to steal his _coffee _and not his milk, but what he didn't know shouldn't kill him. And he didn't drink coffee, anyway.

She snuck over to the cupboards, since she wasn't quite sure the extent of his Vulcan hearing, and rummaged around for the packet of coffee.

"Penny?"

She spun around, clutching the bag in her hands, looking a little guilty. "Oh. Hey, Leonard."

"Hey." He frowned at her for a second, before his eyes set upon the bag clenched between her lilypad green nails. "Oh, right. You're here for coffee."

She tossed him a half-smile as he let out an equally small laugh. There was this strange air about them now, and she couldn't tell whether it was the result of Leonard finding happiness in Priya, or if was because that same woman had prevented Penny from seeing him as often as she used to.

"Don't tell Sheldon." She said, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard.

His eyebrows rose. "He doesn't drink coffee."

She cringed. "I _kind _of said I wouldn't steal anything."

He just laughed again.

She turned around, water steaming in a mug behind her. He was smiling at her, and she found herself smiling back, and she wondered if it was so bad to have missed him so much.

XXX

She put her mug down and strode closer to him. "So. Leonard. How have you been?"

He was still smiling. "I've been good."

She picked up her mug again, staring at him through a curtain of steam. "Good. That's good."

XXX

"How's acting been treating you?"

"Oh, you know," she said with a sigh, watching one of his hands tug at his dressing gown. "Crappy. Same old same old."

He shook his head and clucked his tongue in sympathy. "I don't know. I think you're a great actress."

Her eyes flashed onto him, and she took a step closer. "Really?"

"Mmm," he murmured, sounding a little off. He reached out and put a hand on her forearm, giving it a squeeze. She felt warmth hit her. "You're a... great actress,"

It was then she realised how close their bodies were.

XXX

He was looking at her. He just kept looking at her.

"Leonard," she whispered.

"Yeah?" he said, just as softly.

She closed her eyes for a moment, just revelling in the presence of him next to her. His dark eyes gliding over her. His breath hitting her collarbone. The fact that she could hear every second of every one of those breaths, every pause, every shaky intake.

"I—" her eyes opened, and his were fixed on her face, something shining in them that she couldn't quite identify, but wasn't sure she was necessarily afraid of.

She needed to step away from him. But it was like instead of slippers, it was cement clinging to her feet, rendering it impossible.

XXX

"Penny."

Just the way he said her name sent hits of warm and cold writhing through her body.

"Mmm?"

XXX

He was smiling at her again.

She didn't know what that meant.

XXX

"Penny? Leonard?"

Sheldon was staring at them from the hall, his brow furrowed. "What is the meaning of this?"

Leonard shifted away from her, his eyes casting over her one last time. "The meaning of what, Sheldon?"

He squinted at them, then huffed. "Oh, never mind."

XXX

She glanced down at a nonexistent watch. "Oh, Leonard, jeez, I have somewhere to be..."

His eyes flicked back to her, and off again just as quickly. Like she was acid to look at. She tried not to show how much that one, half-second action could hurt. "Yeah. I have somewhere to be, too," he said, in that fast, nervous manner he'd acquired when speaking to her while Priya was around. His eyes dove for the floor. "Dishes to wash."

She went for the door before he could say anything else. "Bye, Leonard," she said, offering him a small wave.

He followed her, his footsteps trudging after her. "Bye," he said. "Have a good day, Penny."

XXX

She nodded, scampering out as quickly as he could shut the door. She hopped over to her apartment, trying to burn away the last five minutes from her mind.

From her kitchen counter, her full coffee bag was glaring at her, accusing her.

She wanted it to shut up.

* * *

This will have more than one chapter. I don't know how many... just more than one.

Have a nice Valentine's.

P.S: This used to have song lyrics in it, but I've recently discovered it is major banned by the site because of copyright laws, and have since deleted all song lyrics from this story. Sorry if there's any inconvenience as a result of this.


	2. The Mustard Revelation

Penny slumped against her couch, only to get up at the sound of someone rapping on her door.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, falling limp and greasy about her shoulders. She readied the warnings of a Nebraska-style-ass-whooping if whoever it was decided to stay there longer than five seconds.

"Oh," all thoughts about retrieving the bat from behind her dresser simply floated away, like a lazy bumble bee done with the pollen from a flower. "Leonard."

"Hi," he said, his lips twitching like he wanted to smile but would be punished if he did. "Hi, Penny. How—how was work?"

She pulled a face, because falling into the category of "giggling, ditzy blonde," was the only possible way she knew to scrub away the occurrences of the previous morning. "The same. Cheescake. Bad tips. Sexist jokes. Assholes trying to look down my top."

He breathed out, slow and steady. Controlled. Maybe he thought she didn't notice. Maybe he'd forgotten the way she used to watch him sleep. She _knew _the way he breathed. "Maybe you should leave, you hate it so much."

She frowned at him. "I can't _afford _to leave, Leonard."

"Right." He muttered. "Right. Of course."

XXX

His eyes were downcast, overshadowed and unhappy.

"Leonard," she said, just to make him look up. She pulled back her messy hair and flashed him a smile that trembled, then faltered after a few seconds. "Is there anything wrong?"

He sighed and didn't answer. She affixed her blue eyes to his dark ones, expelling every little drop of willpower and fierceness through her retinas, hoping he got the message.

XXX

"Well, yeah." He said, softly.

She frowned, resisting the urge to pout and make him think she wasn't taking him as seriously as she was. "Leonard. I'm sorry." She said. Her eyes flicked onto his, and she felt something behind her chest tremble as she said, "Do you want to come in and talk about it?"

XXX

His lips pulled tight and she was struck by the sudden, alarming sensation that she'd just said something wrong and terrible.

She wanted to slam the door and run away to her room, but not only would that be childish, but she'd probably be hurting him and neither of them would even know why.

XXX

He looked at her. For a long time.

He probably didn't realise he was scaring the hell out of her.

XXX

There was something in his eyes, a glimmer, a shine, she didn't quite know—but she was aware it was _there _just as much as she was aware of her own heartbeat. Like decisions were dancing through his mind—to come in and risk comeuppance from his girlfriend?—or to run as far and as fast as he could away from her?

"It's just coffee." She said. "You can have coffee, can't you? Priya won't hurt you for that?"

His brow furrowed. "I thought you didn't have coffee?"

XXX

She wished she hadn't ventured past _how was your day. _Really, how hard was it to answer a question? A simple question. Good or bad. Simple.

Then she could have sent him on his way, saying she needed to wash her hair or some other fabricated excuse.

Because this really was all her fault.

XXX

"Penny? I thought you didn't have coffee?"

She took a breath in. "Well... I guess I found some."

"Oh." He said, in a small voice. "Oh. Alright."

His eyes drifted away from hers. She wanted to scream, but she swallowed her desperate voice, and instead said, "Leonard, seriously," a small laugh. To let him know she wasn't paranoid or continually picking up all the details he thought she missed now they weren't a couple. Which she did. "You're freaking me out."

"Sorry," he muttered. His eyes rewinded to the hallway. "I—have to go get mustard,"

XXX

"Why?" she said.

XXX

He shifted a little in his spot. "It's takeout tonight," he said. "I—sort of on purpose forgot Sheldon's mustard."

XXX

"Why would you do that?"

XXX

His eyes flashed into hers, dark and troubled and wanting to say something they couldn't. "I did it to get away from Priya."

Then he turned, giving her a small—friendly, how was that still _possible?_—wave and went for the staircase, his neat footfalls plodding down, bouncing about in her brain and doubling over and echoing after themselves, because she was sure her mind was about to fall to pieces.

XXX

It was only when an unwelcome rush of warmth and the sensation of something binding her chest hit her with full wrath that she realised she'd been breathing hard.

She raised a hand to her temples, not sure if the world was spinning so hard because she'd been hyperventilating, or because of what had just happened on her doorstep.

XXX

She spun on her heel and went into her bedroom, almost stumbling against her doorframe.

She sunk onto her bed with her head in her hands.

And there on her dresser, bright and shining and a reminder of happier times much like Leonard himself, was a snowflake preserved between two pieces of glass.

* * *

I don't know whether that's a good ending or not. Hmm.


	3. The Sickness Puzzlement

Leonard glanced over at Penny, standing at her door with a slumping posture, talking to Sheldon with her brow furrowed. Radiant, gorgeous, and untouchable.

Moments later Sheldon came flouncing back into the apartment, his words seething with anger as he muttered, "Darned Nebraskan man-handed..." and so on.

XXX

Leonard offered Penny a small wave as she stood leaning against her doorway, softly banging her head against the wall.

She straightened and blinked at him. Didn't even smile as she turned on her heel, and slammed the door behind her.

XXX

He frowned after her, waited a moment, then went over and knocked on her door.

It opened a fraction, revealing a frantic blue eye and a smudge of light hair.

"What was that all about?" he said, confused.

"What was what all about?" she repeated.

"Your whole performance in the hallway."

The eye narrowed. "Look, sorry Leonard. I can't talk now."

"Why?"

"Sick—" she said, then let out two weak coughs, the kind he did when his mother skyped and he really couldn't be bothered with her. "—see? Sick. Real sick. Bye, Leonard."

"Wait—"

The door closed.

XXX

Leonard muddled his way back to his apartment, his eyes casting over Sheldon, who was sitting in his spot with his laptop and expensive headphones.

"Sheldon?" Leonard said, closing the door.

Sheldon sighed. "AFK. What is it, Leonard?" he said, his mouth a thin, irritated line.

Leonard frowned. "Do you know what's up with Penny?"

Sheldon blinked. "Are you referring to some emotional affliction? Because if not, I don't have much more knowledge in the matter, but I think I need to douse myself in—"

"You're fine." Leonard said, stopping him short. Not that he really knew whether Penny was sick or not, but he did know that Sheldon would freak out far beyond what the situation called for, if he told him that she in fact, was. "Penny's not sick."

Sheldon's shoulders relaxed. "Then what reason could you possibly have for interrupting me?"

"Doesn't she seem... off, to you?"

Sheldon blinked at him.

"You're right. I really, _really _shouldn't be asking you that."

XXX

After his brief, strange encounter with Sheldon—not that any of them _weren't _odd in some way—he went back over to Penny's apartment and rapped on the door twice.

That blue eye blinked at him again. "What is it, Leonard?"

"I wanted to see how you were feeling." He said.

"I told you—" there was the sound of her blowing her nose, "—really off the weather."

"You seemed fine before," he said, shrugging.

"So I'm a _liar _now?"

Leonard's eyes flashed back to hers, or rather, the only one visible. It had narrowed to a slit, and her voice had lost any trace of the fuzziness that accompanied sickness—fabricated or not.

"No. No, I'm not saying that," he said with a sigh. "I don't really know what I'm saying—"

She interrupted him, and the stark alertness in her voice wiped away any doubt that she wasn't lying about being sick. "Well, _Leonard, _I'm not going to stand here and take crap from you, alright? I'm not going to be accused of anything—"

He sighed again. "Look, Penny, I'm sorry."

She blinked at him. Her voice had softened. "What?" she said. "God. Fine. Come in."

The door opened fully, and he realised with a fresh wave of _something _that he was having a hard time identifying, that it really was good to see both of her eyes.

XXX

He sat down on her couch, watching as she skittered off to the kitchen to rummage through her cupboards, poking at bags of flour and miscellaneous pots, but never actually pulling anything out.

"Penny." He said, and she stiffened, but eventually turned around. "Have I done something?"

Her face contorted into a bland smile and she flapped at him. "No. No, of course not."

"Really?" he said, his brow furrowing. "You're acting weird."

She sneezed into cupped hands. "I told you. Sick."

He shrugged. "Alright. Why don't you sit down?"

She blinked. Her voice caught. "Leonard—" she said, faltered, and slowly started again. "Sick. I'll make you sick."

XXX

He cocked his head and squinted at her, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hear the real words, the ones she was supposed to say before she lied to him.

XXX

He looked at the couch cushions. "Alright."

She nodded at him and instead took a seat at the table by the window. "Where's Priya today?"

He flashed a grin her way. "Oddly enough, sick."

Her lips twitched, like she dare not smile back. "Funny."

XXX

He didn't know whether he felt hurt, or even offended, that she never smiled back.

He didn't know what he felt, but he felt something. It niggled, not _at _his heart, but rather off to the side, wriggling under his skin and beneath muscle, with no intention of leaving.

He didn't know what he felt, and that annoyed him.

But he wanted her to smile. He knew that.

XXX

"Listen, Penny,"

She looked at him, her eyes and hair glinting in defiance against the generous light embracing her frame. "Mmm?"

_Radiant, gorgeous, and untouchable._

His words crawled back under his tongue as his previous thoughts struck inside his head.

_Radiant, gorgeous, and _untouchable.

XXX

He simply smiled at her, while she frowned.

"What? What is it?"

XXX

"Nothing. It's nothing."

XXX

He got up, and she was still staring at him, befuddled.

"I think I should go," he said, shaking his head. "But thanks."

She walked him to the door, her head angled down, ever so slightly.

XXX

She bid him goodbye, and he walked away.

Once at his own door, he risked one last glance, just to see if she'd still be there.

She was, standing there, almost wavering. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed, and her lips still painted in that same frown.

He gave her a small wave as she retreated back inside, and repeated the words, because if he didn't, he wasn't so sure what would happen.

_Radiant._

_Gorgeous._

But untouchable.


	4. The Inhaler Frustration

This is written differently to the other chapters. I was about three-quarters through when I realised—I'm going to fix it tomorrow-ish. (Meaning next week.)

* * *

Penny knew her own reputation. She wasn't stupid.

She knew what would happen if Leonard got too close—the only reason it hadn't before was because Priya was always there, or Sheldon was, rambling on in his psychotic fashion and disabling her from thinking about anything but his high-strung voice.

But now he was coming over to her apartment, one on one, and _staying _there.

She raked a hand through her hair, thinking about all these things whilst digging through her drawers for (clean) underwear.

It wasn't like she didn't enjoy Leonard's company. She did. Oh, she did. It was that he was _happy. _That did hurt her sometimes, she'd admit, but she still wanted him to be able to see exactly what he had with Priya, and right now she seemed to be blinding him to it.

She slammed her fist against her dresser. She hated when she felt like this. Hated it, so much. Half of her heart was giddy whenever she so much as heard Leonard's _footsteps. _Half of it told her she wasn't a total bitch.

Now she was just pulling the drawers out in frustration—when she accidentally yanked out the bottom one. She blinked at the full cupboard, brimming with all of Leonard's inhalers back from when they'd been together.

She threw one at the wall.

He'd wanted to take them back, saying it might be strange, but _she'd_ insisted on it, saying it was better to have them for "emergency purposes."

She threw another.

She'd had help from Sheldon, and the fact that she hadn't mentioned that he still had some of her tanks was probably helpful.

Another, and another.

She suggested he take them back when he got a new girlfriend, thinking that was a long time coming.

The bangs continued, now a small heap of inhalers puddling on her carpet, and she no longer cared whether or not she made dents.

But it wasn't. He could take them back any day now.

Bang, bang, _bang._

But he hadn't. He hadn't.

There was another bang, but this time it wasn't made by her, and instead of at her wall, it was at her door.

Maybe that was him to take them back now.

She pulled herself up, trying to dodge her reflection in the mirror—tight, dry lips, mussed hair, and bright eyes that were bright in the _wrong _way.

She sniffed and patted herself down in anticipation of Leonard's gaze.

She opened the door, and sure enough, there he was. Brow knotted, face pulled down, and a less-than-pleased-looking Sheldon standing behind him.

"Penny?" he said, his voice light, like spiderwebs.

That alone made her heart squirm free of her ribcage just to get a better view.

She nodded at him, bringing her hand across her face. "Oh, hey, Leonard," she said, pasting on a smile, trying to fall back into that "giggling, ditzy blonde," persona of hers. She nodded to Sheldon. "'Sup Shelborg. What's happening?"

He looked her up and down, taking a step closer, and she felt like slapping him upside the head with the way he was still able to slice past her coating, and frown at the blurred person beneath. Seeming to ignore social standpoints, he enclosed his fingers around her wrists and held tightly. "Are you alright? We heard banging."

Sheldon edged around Leonard to scowl at Penny. "She is evidently not having a seizure, as was the likeliest explanation. She seems fine. May we go now?"

Leonard glared back at him, fierce and cutting, as strong as she'd ever seen him do—anything, really. "No, Sheldon. You do whatever you want. I'm staying here."

"But—"

"_Leave._"

Sheldon scuttled away, throwing them glares in his own special brand of "you-are-of-no-concern-and-when-I-rise-as-overlord-you-will-be-the-first-to-be-publicly-flogged."

Leonard blinked at her, rubbing her arms as if she needed warming up. "Tell me what it is."

"There's nothing to tell," she said, trying to fake like his touch didn't make her intestines knot. "I'm fine. Seriously, Leonard."

He didn't move his hands, his fingers twitching on her bicep, like he had been sure of himself but was so no longer. "Then what was all that banging?"

She looked down, at her bright jandals and his flat sneakers, only an inch or so from touching. "Nothing. You know me, so clumsy—I knocked a couple lamps."

"Oh." His small voice made her look up again, sounding like he'd just been denied access to something holy and spectacular. His eyes widened, slightly, and he said in a stronger voice, "Is there glass? If there's glass, you should keep away from it. Let me take a look at it—"

She held her hand against his chest as he was about to bustle inside. "No, Leonard. No glass. It's fine."

His eyebrows rose and his voice snuffed out for a moment, before sparking up again. His hands were still on her arms, even after the entire conversation, and she tried to fog out how bizarre and out of control that made her feel. "Are you sure? Can I come in?"

She felt like she needed to be drunk to be able to talk to him—or maybe she already was, drunk on him, drunk on his nervous smile, and the curve of his jaw, and his sweaters, and his small hands fitting into her big ones and the way his deep eyes flashed into hers so she felt like the fibres of her being were splitting apart, one by one.

"No." She said, slowly. "No, you can't. Goodbye, Leonard."

She didn't know how, but she managed to pull away and out of his arms, and shut the door without ever giving a reason why.

* * *

This thing needs to be happier. I should be writing happy things. Does anybody know a fluff-serum for gloomy writers? (I think about half the writers on here need a shot of that one time or another.)


	5. The Sleepless Night Destination

I was surprised how easy it was to write this chapter, once I actually sat down and thought through it.

* * *

Her body was a soft lump under the covers next to his, warm and sleepy and happy.

She rolled around and pressed her face into her pillow, her hand making its way to rest on his hip. She murmured his name between a handful of snores, and he murmured something incomprehensible back.

"Are you awake?" he said, and shifted so he was looking down at her curled frame. Her face blurred every time he tried to get a good look at her, like a camera going out of focus, so he could never be sure who she was.

She was familiar, though. Familiar and lovely and sweet-smelling.

"Mmm," she said in response. "Leonard?"

He reached out to touch her, but something stopped him, and his hand was left lying there while he waited for something else to happen.

"Yeah," he replied, his throat and voice feeling odd, warped and rough and strange. "It's me."

"What's keeping you up?" she asked in her light voice, like feathers, or the drizzling of honey, or the sunlight through the trees.

"I don't know," his brow furrowed, because this was his only answer. He didn't know, and that made him confused and mad and with so many questions he felt like his throat were to burst if he tried to voice all of them.

"Oh, sweetie," she said, and he felt fingers touch his face, sending a pulse of warmth through his body. "You poor baby. Come here."

He moved closer, her head nestling against his chest and her arm wrapping around his waist, her breath hot and deep and comfortable. "Go back to sleep, Leonard,"

He shut his eyes, and as he did so, he was aware of a new and different heartbeat in his veins.

And came to the confusing, strange conclusion, that it must have been hers.

XXX

Leonard woke up feeling out of breath, his throat raw and tired and still singing with those questions.

"Priya—" he said, until he remembered, remembered that Priya wasn't there, had been called in for early work for the last week and a half and had decided to stay in Raj's apartment as a precaution.

He tried to think of just _what _had woken him, why he was lying there tangled in bed covers, panting and struggling against foreign flashes of dark and trembling memories. But that was all that came to him: flashes, snips of words and letters and limbs and sensations piling on top of one another until the ceilings were collapsing with the magnitude of it all.

Flashes. _Familiar. Heartbeat. Touch, smell, feathers and honey. Happy. _

And one other thing, but this one was the one that made his stomach twist and his breath quiver out in smouldering gasps, the one that made his heart line with lead.

_Sweetie._

XXX

It was five-forty-three, two and a half hours after he'd been startled awake by his—_dream? Nightmare? Hallucination?_—and he pulled his dressing gown around him as his eyes set upon the woman he was sure would be the death of him someday, possibly far sooner than he realised.

"Morning, Penny. But what on earth are you doing up so early?"

Something glossed over her eyes, but her smile—her dazzling, beautiful smile, like lanterns cutting through perpetual darkness—replaced it too quickly for him to get a chance at identifying it. "It must be insomnia. You're... rubbing off on me." She said, and the tones in her voice wavered, jumping higher then lower with the spaces between her words.

Her hair was messy and curling around her eyes and her cheeks, tossed up into a haphazard half thought through bun that was dissolving as he watched her, blinking at him, smiling at him, saying words that split apart before they hit his ears.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" He said, starting to shake his head.

Her frown was only a half frown, a smile still haunting her lips—and he had the brief, idiotic thought that maybe she was haunting _him. _"I said, can I come inside? I'll make you coffee."

"I—well—"

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think the answer you're looking for is _sure._"

She slid past him, resting her fingers on his cheek as she did so, and that same warm pulse sighed through his body.

He pressed a hand against his forehead and shut the door, pivoting on his heel to follow after her as she went on to the kitchen.

"How's Priya?" she asked with her back turned to him, fussing over instant packets and slow roasts. "Still sick?"

He shook his head. "No. She's at the firm. She's been called in early."

Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed. But he was just paranoid. Seeing things that weren't there. He was just paranoid.

He scoured for something else to talk about, something that wouldn't make him feel like his heart was swirling down a plughole. "I'll have my coffee—"

She let out a sharp breath. But he mustn't have heard it. He mustn't have heard it, because when she turned around, she was smiling at him, saying, "I know what kind of coffee you like, Leonard."

"I—of course you do."

She cocked her head. "What's wrong, Leonard? Tell me. You can tell me," she swerved around the bench to stand in front of him. "You can always tell me."

No, he couldn't. He couldn't, because she was wrecked, and spoiled, and whenever he looked at her he saw the sun with different shades of blonde hair and a smile that was brighter than any supernova. Somebody that knew too many of his secrets already.

There was no way he could win in this situation, not as long as she lived only a handful of steps away and he felt like being within a metre radius of her was sure to burn him alive.

And he didn't know why he was thinking like this. He didn't know why he felt like this, angry and lonely and lost all at the same time.

He didn't know why she couldn't stop _smiling _at him.

He knew he needed her to go. She needed to go, she needed to stop smiling at him, she needed to stop making his heart feel so hollow yet so full at the same time.

He needed her to go, but he didn't want her to go and parts of him—stupid, sporadic parts—never wanted her to stop smiling at him. Never, so long as he lived, and if he could capture her in this moment—her spiral hair now half falling down her back, her face without any makeup—if he could make the world _stop _in its tilt, for just one moment, he would, he would do that, and he would remain forever in this moment here, with Penny smiling at him.

But he couldn't do that.

And for this one, imperfect moment, she needed to stop smiling at him and she needed to leave.

But that fantasy would always be there. Even as she cut through him with dampened, hurt eyes, that fantasy would always be there.

That he would someday have the power to make the world cease its turning, it would halt on its axis, and he would remain there like that, for an eternity.

With Penny smiling at him.

* * *

That's weird. FFN says 'sighed' is an incorrect spelling.


End file.
